


Cranky

by BlueWingedAngel



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWingedAngel/pseuds/BlueWingedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ex-lover of Bellamy's leaves his tent and Clarke is displeased.</p><p>(Written for prompt #34. Cranky from my 100 prompts table for the 100.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cranky

There’d been a misunderstanding. 

Of course by  _misunderstanding_  Bellamy meant that the princess and - _unfortunately for him_  - his girlfriend, Clarke had overreacted to a single sentence. 

“Oh, yeah,” he’d said, gesturing at the slender brunette beside him, “we slept together.” 

Somehow, in some way only girls could achieve... she’d translated that to mean  _and so I’m leaving you because I’m in the same airspace as her, madly in love with her, she’s pregnant and, oh, we’re getting married_. 

Could anyone even get married on Earth? Was it legal? He wasn’t even sure. Maybe they could have an imaginary grounder wedding in Clarke’s twisted psyche and it could be even  _less_  realistic. 

The fact was he loved Clarke. 

Clarke knew he loved her -  _unfortunately, round two_.  

But this didn’t seem to deter her from seeing the brunette he couldn’t even remember the eye colour of as a threat to their entire relationship simply because she left his tent six weeks  _after_ he'd slept with her.  

So when he’d had to go out with a scouting party to see how far the Mountain Men had come, he hadn’t quite anticipated the bullshit he was about to receive. 

There was smoke, coming from somewhere in the vicinity of camp, and he was over a day’s trek away from his people and damnit he needed to know if they were okay. 

“Dropship, come in?”   

“Clarke, is everything okay?”  

He narrowed his eyes. Oh, so  _this_  was how it was gonna be?  

“Clarke, I swear to god, answer the damn radio.” 

Static.  

Murphy laughed at him so he hit him in the gut with the butt of his gun and shook the radio like somehow Clarke would get a little shaken by proxy.  

“I am  _serious!_  I legitimately need you to reply!” 

There was a long pause and then the radio crackled twice. 

“Are you seriously giving me the silent radio treatment?” He had a feeling she was probably cracking up at the other radio, laughing at his expense.  

Nada.  _Zip_. Zilch. 

He took a deep breath. “Raven, are  _you_ there?” At this rate when he got back to camp he was gonna stick the radio right up Clarke’s lily white--- 

Crackle. Crackle. 

He glared daggers at the radio like he could incinerate it then took a deep, steadying breath. 

“I saw smoke coming from camp. Please confirm you’re okay,” he said. 

“We’re fine,” Clarke’s voice said after a moment. “Five-by-five. Clarke out!” 

He let out a sharp breath.  

She was fine! Thank god! 

However, she would  _not be_ once he got  _home_. 


End file.
